


Quo Animo Graditur

by RicePips



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Captain and Commander, Early in the journey, F/M, Guilt, Hints of blossoming feelings, Late Night Musings, Mark? Mark who?, fizzing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 10:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17896841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RicePips/pseuds/RicePips
Summary: Kathryn Janeway’s mind rarely stops, plagued by endless feelings of guilt and a fear that she will not get her crew home.She should worry about her fiancé, but finds his name and image is slipping further from her mind with each passing day.Instead, she fears another face will soon replace that of Mark....





	Quo Animo Graditur

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own these characters. 
> 
> Probably not my finest piece of work, but sometimes something enters your mind and won’t let go until it’s answered. 
> 
> Apologies for any errors or general Blah! I hope you enjoy it anyway!

The memories wouldn’t let her go. The memories and the guilt. Locked firmly around her heart and mind, there was no chance of relief from the constant gnawing pain that lingered, the thoughts of children and spouses thousands of light years away, unknowing of the fate of their loved ones. 

It was this that kept Kathryn Janeway awake each night, that kept sleep at bay. The constant guilt that made her pace the halls of her ship with a relentless yet aimless vigour. 

It was that same guilt that brought her to the Mess Hall each night, as the rest of the ship slept and the skeleton night crew remained at their posts, Janeway would sit, curled up in a window seat, head pressed against the cool glass, hands clasped around her cup of coffee, eyes watching unseeing as the stars passed by them. 

It was a time to let her mind wander, think and process. 

Sometimes she would think of home and Mark, but not as often as she thought she would. Instead she thought of her crew and her decisions and how things were progressing with the merging of two very different groups of people. 

On this evening, Mark’s name entered her mind for the first time in.....how long had it been? Why was this happening? Why had the name of her fiancé been so far from her mind? Was that normal? What did it say about their relationship that 70,000 light years had practically made her forget him? 

She tried to focus upon the memory of him, but it was blurred and replaced only by the photo she had in her quarters, a photo which was only a moment in time. She could no longer hear his voice, or remember his touch. 

Every time she tried to focus, she was offered up the unhelpful thought of the young crew she had stranded in this God-forsaken sector of space. It twisted at her stomach and ate away at her heart. She knew it was the right decision, but she couldn’t set aside the truth that many people had suffered because of her actions. 

She was lost in her reverie when a cup held by a masculine hand appeared in front of her face. 

“Drink it, Captain, you look like you need it.” 

Janeway sighed and sat up, a small smile playing across her lips as she took the offered cup from the hand of her First Officer. The man was already catching on to her caffeine addiction. 

“What makes you say that?” she asked, her voice self-deprecating, “The dishevelled hair? The unwashed appearance? Or the bags under the eyes the size of transport freighters?” She waved a dismissive hand about herself and looked away from her First Officer’s perceptive and intense gaze. 

Commander Chakotay gave a soft laugh, his dark eyes twinkling with merriment, “More because your cup was empty,” he answered, his tone rich and soothing. 

Janeway smiled back and took the still offered cup from her Maquis-turned-Starfleet Second in Command. Other than his intelligence file she still knew little about the real him except for the glimpses he’d offered over the last few months. He’d already demonstrated a caring side, an ability to counsel those around him, and offer advice and a kind word where needed. She knew he was a popular member of staff, enjoyed climbing on his days off and stayed true to the beliefs of his people by meditating daily. 

A vegetarian and sound of mind, she already trusted him implicitly despite her original brief of arresting him. 

But something had instantly made her trust him. 

Something that had bothered her since their unexpected arrival in the Delta Quadrant. A question she found herself musing over far more than she probably should. 

Had they remained in the Alpha Quadrant, would she really have arrested him and handed him over to Starfleet? Would she really have done it? 

She wasn’t so sure right now. 

From the moment she’d met him, she’d instantly felt she could trust him. And as time went by, the more he proved himself, the more she trusted and relied upon him. 

It was at this moment she realised he had asked her a question and was watching her with amusement. 

“Sorry, I was miles away,” Janeway apologised, feeling an embarrassed flush rise up her throat and into her cheeks.

“That’s alright,” Chakotay said, an amused look on his face, one that made Janeway feel suddenly very self-conscious. “I was just asking, what had you awake at this time?”

Janeway sighed as the memory of her daily worries came back to her, she placed her cup down and folded her arms across her chest, “Oh, just couldn’t sleep. I’m…..well, just thinking.”

Chakotay looked thoughtfully at her and then nodded, “The Caretaker.”

Janeway raised an eyebrow and gave a wan smile, “The Caretaker.”

“That was not your fault, you made the right decision,” Chakotay said softly. “Nobody blames you, you know that, right?”

“I very much doubt that!” Janeway scoffed, recalling the vitriol that had been spat at her by various Maquis officers in the aftermath of her decision, the looks of devastated realisation that this meant they wouldn’t be home for years - if ever - from her own crew, their loved ones clearly on their minds. Strangely, no image of Mark appeared in her mind then, or now, as perhaps it should have done. Guilt twisted her stomach sharply. 

“They don’t,” Chakotay soothed. “Not now anyway. You made the right decision - it was an impossible one to make, but there was little choice. It was the most compassionate option and you proved yourself to be a fine Starfleet Captain.”

Janeway gave him an incredulous look, “Well, thank you, Commander, for that insightful analysis of my actions. I’ll be sure to use that when the next crew member is found crying due to a missed birthday or homesickness.”

Chakotay sat back in his seat, taken aback by the harshness and sheer passionate bitterness within Janeway’s tone, “Captain, I meant no disrespect, I….”

“No…No, I’m sorry….that was out of order, I’m just a little tetchy tonight, but I should not take it out on you,” Janeway sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, her anger and frustration melting away at the hurt look on Chakotay’s face. 

“I understand….I was merely suggesting, and feel free to yell at me again, that you can’t be hard on yourself over every little thing....”

“Stranding an entire crew of people is hardly a little thing,” Janeway cut in sharply. 

“We were in a difficult position,” he said, the change of pronoun making Janeway look up at him. “We did what we had to do and….yes, we made a big sacrifice, but it was a necessary one and the right one,” Chakotay looked across at her and held up his hands, “Now, feel free to yell away.”

Janeway couldn’t help but chuckle, it was the first time she had since….well, in a long time. A fleeting thought echoed through her mind that she probably hadn’t truly laughed in years, that even Mark hadn’t ever made her truly laugh, yet something about Chakotay made her believe that one day he would make her laugh for the first time and that thought scared her. His choice of pronoun made her feel less lonely than she had in years and that scared her even more. She paused a moment, reflecting and collecting herself, “I’m not going to yell.”

“Thank goodness!” Chakotay offered her a dazzling smile that for a moment made Janeway lose all sense. 

She shook her head. “But, you are wrong about me being hard on myself. I have to be….I have a crew of people under my command, one death, two deaths, twenty deaths….I have to feel them all, because if I don’t, it means I have lost that one thing that makes us better than any enemy out here in the Delta Quadrant….compassion. I have to go over every little detail, question every command, every action, because this crew rely upon me and trust in me - well, almost - to get them home and I can’t afford to get complacent, because that’s when mistakes happen. And I can’t have that, does that make sense?”

“Yes,” Chakotay said slowly, “But it also makes no sense at all. Yes, feel each decision, each death and injury, Spirits, question the events, run them over again and again, but it won’t get us home quicker, won’t console our families and all it will do is exhaust you, eat you up and then that will make you no good to anyone….and we need you, this ship needs you. You’re a damn fine Captain….remember that.”

Janeway couldn’t speak, she didn’t trust her voice, but her eyes revealed the true depth of raw emotion his words evoked. She looked away and swiped at a treacherous eye, hoping to hide her tears from him. To his credit, he looked away, aware of her discomfort and embarrassment and quietly offering her the privacy she needed. 

She swallowed hard, deciding it was a fruitless task to even pretend she wasn’t on the verge of tears. 

“I think I might head back to my quarters,” she offered, voice heavy and laced with a thickness brought on by trying hard not to cry. She stood up, her cup abandoned on the table, yet still full. 

Chakotay’s hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her from leaving, Janeway stopped dead, looking down at his hand on her smaller wrist, a delicious energy of warmth passing from his skin into hers. He slowly relaxed his grip, eyes lifting up to her face, fingers gently stroking the inside of her wrist, he picked up her cup from the table with his free hand and pressed it into hers, “Drink your coffee, Kathryn,” he said softly, her name sounding deliciously strange, naughty even. She realised it was the first time she had ever heard him say her name. And Gods help her, she liked it. 

Janeway’s fingers closed around the cup and she nodded, swallowing hard, the feeling of his fingers on her wrist still strong and warm, “Thank you….goodnight.”

She left the canteen with a slightly spinning head, the scent of coffee invading her nose and the feeling of strong hands upon her skin still fresh. 

She had a bad feeling that she was in serious danger. Mark? Right now, Mark who? As she walked towards her quarters, it was the face of her First Officer who filled her mind. She was in trouble indeed.


End file.
